A Clash of Fates

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  “This is already sounding too long-winded,” Asher complained, folding his arms.

  Gideon held up a hand, requesting patience, but it was Reyna who answered his question. “Which event are you referring to? We took the fight to Valanis after the battle.”

  The old master shook his head. “Before that, when we were all together for the first time. I had come from Mount Garganafan, having claimed The Veil.”

  Asher gestured at him. “You had killed someone…” The ranger’s eyes shifted to a distant gaze, though the ranger possessed more memories than just his own these days.

  “Lord Krayt,” Gideon informed. “He was Atilan’s Minister of War.”

  “He fancied himself a god,” Reyna said. “Like his master.”

  “Next to most, he was,” Gideon stated. “Like Atilan, he always kept Crissalith on his person. It lined his staff.”

  “Crissalith?” Asher repeated. “Let’s pretend I’m not an elf; you’re talking about something that happened nearly fifty years ago.”

  “That’s your plan?” Reyna interrupted, doubt and curiosity fighting for her tone. “I thought it was all gone.”

  The old master shook his head. “The mine was destroyed,” he specified. “The Crissalith and Atilan’s private lab should still be down there.”

  “For those of us who died after you explained this the first time,” Asher cut in, “what is Crissalith?”

  Gideon apologised with his expression. “Crissalith is a form of crystal, green in colour. I first came across it in the south of Ayda. The Darkakin were using it against the dragons.”

  By the look on Asher’s face, his memories had just caught up with him. “It kills magic.”

  “That’s something of a ranger’s description, but you’re close. Crissalith was designed by Atilan to deflect the currents of magic. He was looking for a way to bring dragons down but, from what records there are, he mostly enjoyed the power it gave him over his subjects. Like Krayt, his staff was lined with the crystals. Any room he entered rendered the occupants blind and deaf to the realm of magic. It made him powerful among the powerful.”

  “But he couldn’t use magic either,” Asher reasoned from Gideon’s description.

  Revelation illuminated Reyna’s face. “The blue crystal…” Her words trailed off, much like her sight, as she tried to follow her understanding through to a logical conclusion.

  “There’s a blue crystal?” Asher’s frustration formed his every word.

  “The one you brought back from Mount Garganafan,” Reyna continued. “You said you had taken it from Lord Krayt.”

  “Yes,” Gideon confirmed. “It was the only way I could beat him.” He recalled yanking the ring from Lord Krayt’s bony finger, reducing him to naught but an old man, feeble when compared to Gideon’s youth.

  Asher shook his head. “Besides the fact that I didn’t have any eyes at the time, I’ve taken a few blows to the head since then - some quite recently. I don’t remember any blue crystal after the battle of Velia.”

  “They’re called Hastion gems,” Gideon explained.

  One of Reyna’s eyebrows lifted in curiosity. “I thought they had no name.”

  “At the time we didn’t know of one,” Gideon explained. “Atilan’s grimoire - the one Galanör and your mother found in the mine - made no mention of it by name, but I found a single reference to it in the Dragorn library, on The Lifeless Isles. Elandril himself investigated a few ancient sites, during The First Age. He collated what he could—”

  “I’m appreciating the history lesson,” Asher interjected, “but what does a Hastion gem do?”

  Gideon tried to think of the simplest way he could put it. “Like Crissalith, Atilan designed it with a single purpose. Whoever wields a Hastion gem retains their connection to the realm of magic - Crissalith cannot affect them. Atilan wore such a gem on his finger. He also gifted them to his most trusted and loyal servants, like Krayt.”

  Reyna leaned forward on the table, her gaze almost predatory. “Do you still have it?”

  Gideon nodded. “Locked away in the Dragorn library.”

  Asher released something close to a groan from his throat. “Why do I feel like I’ve missed a step?”

  Reyna turned to the ranger. “With a Hastion gem in his possession, Gideon can retrieve a piece of Crissalith from the mine and safely bring it back to Illian without Ilargo falling ill to its effects.”

  Gideon added, “It also means we could get close enough to use it against Alijah without losing what’s left of our own magic. At least one individual could,” he added.

  Asher didn’t look convinced. “For the last two years, Alijah has proven to be one step ahead of us at every turn. If you’ve considered this, won’t he have?”

  “He won’t even know it exists,” Gideon replied with the hint of a smile. “I locked the Hastion gem away in the library years before he was born. And Malliath was there for the mine’s destruction. As far as he will be concerned, Crissalith is no longer a threat.”

  Asher looked away as he came to his own conclusion. “They would be blind to it.”

  “Yes,” Gideon said with some satisfaction. “This could be our best chance at really stopping them. The Crissalith will cut right through their bond. Alijah will be able to think for himself for the first time in years. Malliath will be put off balance, perhaps enough to subdue him until Alijah can alter their bond. After that we can slay Malliath and spare Alijah.”

  The ranger shook his head again. “This Hastion gem you possess - it’s a ring?”

  Gideon looked from Asher to Reyna and back. “Yes,” he answered hesitantly.

  “So you could retrieve a piece of Crissalith without it blocking your magic,” Asher went on, “but how will Ilargo fly back to Illian if it only protects the one wearing it?”

  “Ilargo has already considered that,” Gideon reassured. “We have a plan.”

  “And does this same plan also help you to enter a mine destroyed by a dragon?” the ranger hounded.

  “No.” The answer turned every head to the tent’s entrance, where Galanör was standing with Aenwyn. “I believe that’s where I come in.”

  Gideon pointed his finger at the elven ranger. “Galanör has been inside Atilan’s lab. He’s seen it.”

  Again, Reyna put it all together before Asher. “You could open a portal inside the mine,” she voiced.

  Galanör nodded. “It’s been several years since I opened any portal, but I recall the method. And I recall Atilan’s lab with enough clarity.”

  “You don’t look like you have the strength to open a door,” Asher said bluntly, “never mind a portal.”

  “He will have time to recover,” Gideon assured. “We must fly to The Lifeless Isles to recover the Hastion gem first.”

  “What about crystals to open a portal?” Reyna questioned. “I doubt there are any among us who can create one now.”

  “Before departing Illian at the end of The Ash War,” Gideon told them, “I concealed three crystals in my private chamber.”

  “One to get in,” Galanör said with a finger in the air. “And one to get out,” he added with a second finger.

  “And one for luck,” Gideon commented.

  Asher gave a false laugh. “You’re going to need it. Hell, we all are.”

  Reyna acknowledged his comment without a direct response. “The magic in those crystals will be degrading along with the tree,” she said instead.

  “All the more reason for haste,” Gideon reminded them.

  Asher, clearly the one burdened by the most doubt, leaned over the table and hung his head. Reyna mimicked him to better see his face between the strands of hair. “Is this the part where you say we’re all going to die?”

  The ranger waited a moment. His eyes crossed them all before resting on Reyna. “Not this time,” he replied resolutely. He returned to his normal height and took a breath. “Well. What are you still doing here? Go. We can defend the doorway if needed.”


  Gideon looked at Galanör and Aenwyn with a question in his eyes. They both nodded, informing him that they were ready to take flight.

  “What will you tell the others?” Gideon enquired of Reyna and Asher.

  “The truth,” Reyna answered. “You have gone to retrieve a great weapon that will end the war.”

  Gideon could see the hope that now lived in her, no matter how much she tried to hide it behind a narrative. Judging by the way Asher looked at her, he too could see the fire ignited within her soul.

  He hoped he didn’t break her heart.

  Soon after, Gideon was ascending Ilargo, taking his place in front of Galanör and Aenwyn. Many eyes were turned to their departure, most of which looked concerned. The old master trusted the reason for their absence to spread quickly.

  He looked down at Reyna and Asher while Avandriell jumped about beneath Ilargo’s head. “Protect that doorway,” he said.

  “Save my son,” Reyna replied quietly.

  Gideon maintained eye contact with the queen, his old friend.

  Asher glanced at her with concerns of his own pinching the muscles on his brow. “Go,” he urged, looking back up at Gideon.

  The old master turned back to his companion, catching one of his blue eyes. Take us home, Ilargo.

  The green dragon walked away from Avandriell and the others before bursting into a run. Once he was away from everyone, Ilargo beat his wings and soared high, leaving the world behind. Avandriell flew after them but the younger dragon soon banked in a bid to return to her companion, her bronze scales disappearing into the mass of the camp below.

  Gideon looked down at the pit as one opened inside his stomach. Now it was he who dared to hope. Hope that Adan succeeded and saved the tree. Hope that their journey to Ayda bore fruit. Hope that they would return to a world of magic where he could watch Avandriell mature.

  He feared he too was destined for heartbreak.

  Not if I have anything to say about it, Ilargo declared with determination.

  It brought a warm smile to the old master’s face and not just because his companion was so fierce. He enjoyed the fact that, while their bond had been irrevocably altered, they could still dwell in each other’s thoughts with ease.

  In his despair, it would have been easy to shut Ilargo out and keep his thoughts to himself. In all his years, however, Gideon had found no better place to be.

  36

  Messenger

  Every second in the sky was a gut-wrenching moment for Kassian Kantaris. His body was tensed from head to toe, braced between Athis’s spinal horns. The muscles in his thighs, back, and arms ached, begging him to relax. He dared not, just as he dared not look at anything other than Adan’s back. He caught glimpses of Inara’s red cloak, flapping in the wind, but he never shifted his focus from a particular stain on the Drake’s robes.

  Thankfully, it was a straight flight north from the camp to Vangarth. Had Athis needed to bank left or right or ascend over mountains, Kassian would have ruined the dragon’s exquisite red scales with the contents of his stomach.

  Up ahead, Inara turned her head over her shoulder to face them. “We’re nearly there!” she called over the wind.

  Kassian didn’t even bother to nod his head. Instead, he hunkered down and adjusted his grip on the spike in front of him, preparing for the change in altitude. Adan, on the other hand, felt very differently about their flight, his arms outstretched as he embraced the thrill of it.

  It wasn’t long before Athis angled his head down and his body followed after it. The tall pines of The Evermoore, coated in snow, were there to greet them, stretching far into every corner of the land. As the ground rushed up towards them, Kassian instinctively turned his head away and settled his sight on the western horizon. Only then did he realise the sun’s final light was upon the realm, tinting everything a glorious orange.

  The beauty of it all was immediately lost on him when his stomach lurched, threatening to jump up into his throat. Kassian closed his eyes, shutting them so tight it hurt. He felt all four of the dragon’s claws impact the ground and he heard the trees and snow react to his mighty wings. Still, he didn’t open his eyes until he heard Inara’s voice as she climbed down from her companion.

  “The town is just north of here,” she told them.

  Kassian peeled himself off Athis and happily followed Adan’Karth down to the ground. The snow made a satisfying crunch when his feet touched down. He had never been so grateful to have the earth beneath him.

  Inara strapped one bag of supplies over her shoulder before giving them each their own. “I will go into Vangarth,” she continued. “If I can, I will persuade the governor to send any supplies they can spare to the camp. We’re going to need everything we can if we’re to make the journey to The Black Wood when the time comes.”

  “We will accompany you,” Adan began. “Vangarth is too vast to go around and my people will have sought refuge deeper into the woods.”

  “Can’t you just speak to the trees here?” Inara queried, clearly hesitant to have them accompany her.

  “Yes,” the Drake agreed. “But the closer I am to them, the less they have to travel. They will be more likely to seek me out this way.”

  Inara nodded along but she harboured reservations. “Fine. But I will enter Vangarth separately. Two strangers walking into town after sunset is less likely to draw unwanted attention than three strangers.”

  “Are you expecting trouble?” Kassian questioned, his hand coming to rest on the hilt of his sword.

  Inara ran her hands around her belt, checking the Moonblade amongst her other items and small knives. “Always,” she replied. “It’s highly likely that Alijah still has Reavers patrolling the town.”

  Kassian shifted the holster on his thigh so his wand was better concealed within his coat. “The last time I was in Vangarth there were quite a few of them,” he remarked. “Seekers too,” he added gravely, aware that all three of them reeked of magic.

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” Inara replied. “Vangarth is the biggest town in all of Felgarn. Only Lirian would have more of the wretches.”

  Adan, who had been standing as still as the trees, announced, “We should go. The currents continue to fade.”

  Inara gave a nod to Athis, their personal farewells private. Kassian was only too glad to stretch his legs and leave the dragon behind for a while.

  Thanks to Adan’s uncanny ability to navigate the maze-like forest, they eventually found themselves on the southern border of Vangarth.

  It was quiet on the edge as families settled down for the night, smoke rising from their chimneys. Warm light poured out of windows here and there. Kassian knew from his last visit that Vangarth was a sprawling town, the majority of buildings single storey. Even from the ground, the guard towers could be seen on the periphery, looming over the people. At its heart lay the Great Lodge, the largest building in the town, where countless governors had dwelled during their reign.

  “That is my destination,” Inara informed them, looking to the Great Lodge at the end of the main road. “I suggest you take the western streets and enter the forest again in the north.”

  Kassian agreed. “Be careful,” he warned.

  “I will meet you in the forest when I’m done,” she said, stepping out from between the trees.

  “You can track us?” the Keeper asked in disbelief.

  Inara looked from Adan to Kassian. “I can track you.”

  Kassian wanted to argue but she was probably right. Instead, he watched her disappear down the main road, her red hood draped over her head. For just a moment, the Keeper felt real concern for her going off into the town alone, but then he remembered who he was concerned for. Inara was called the Guardian of the Realm for a reason, and she didn’t need a dragon by her side to claim it.

  With Adan by his side, the pair cautiously entered Vangarth. Kassian kept his scarf wrapped around his neck and half of his face while the Drake concealed his shaven horns
inside a dark hood. Unfortunately, the first people they came across were not people at all.

  A pair of Reavers, clad in their usual black suits of armour, were patrolling the street around the corner. Kassian whipped his arm out and kept Adan pressed against the wall before either could walk into view. Without speaking, he directed the Drake to an alley that would take them the back way to the western streets.

  From the next corner, they could see more Reavers standing guard at the top of the nearest tower. Exiting the base of the tower was a lone Reaver, accompanied by a pale Seeker on a lead. Kassian took Adan by the arm and dashed out of the alley and further up the street. A quick glance over his shoulder informed the Keeper that the Reaver and its pet were taking the same route. Kassian cursed and guided the Drake further west, putting a row of buildings between them and the enemy.

  They passed a tavern, the windows brimming with firelight. It wasn’t the liveliest place Kassian had ever seen but it was full enough that they could disappear inside and blend in with the patrons. But the presence of the Seeker kept his feet moving and his heart pounding. If their trail was followed into the tavern, they would have no way out but through the Reaver, creating a ruckus that would surely bring more down on them.

  No, he decided. They kept walking through the gloomy streets, though the Keeper began to worry that they would never end. One street led to another which led to another. He had them heading north as soon as the path became clear but, more often than not, the Reavers emerged from the shadows as if birthed by the darkness, forcing them to take the long way around.

  By the time they reached the northern edge of the town, Kassian should have been very aware of the freezing temperature, but he remained oblivious. Every ounce of his focus was on the dark corners and high towers. So close to the forest again, they opted to run, making a mad dash for the cover of the trees. They kept up their speed until Kassian’s human lungs demanded rest.

  “I would suggest a little further,” Adan remarked, his reptilian eyes surveying the hidden wilds.